


Picker Uppers

by Currypan (Damibutt)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damibutt/pseuds/Currypan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is pretty sure he wants a piece of Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picker Uppers

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetated at the moment but once I get someone willing to read through stuff, it'll be hopefully error free! Also, since it's an university AU, ages will be explained throughout the story.

Paper towers playing a constant game of risk and half full opened bottles of Rock Star were stretching their limits over the lab desk’s edges. The tools thoughtlessly scattered about the room’s floor didn’t even register for him as bare feet ran and leaped over them, one callused hand pulling at the edge of a letterman jacket and the other patting the back of grease smeared jeans for keys and a wallet. But the rush still wasn’t enough for him to forget to take a cool cup with him down to the kitchen. It was filled with cold coffee, the surface thickened and oddly colored with leftover cream; a terrible reminder of how long he’s stayed cooped up already.

 

He had promised to keep the place clean but it’s _midterm_ week and everyone knows how that goes. Stress galore and too little sleep is normal for just about everyone-- but for Tony, it’s _just_ a little different. His classes weren’t exactly gen eds or even basic cores. He had bypass most of those and had decided to get himself granted a customized schedule that offer a little more of a challenge. 

 

Of course--he had forgotten exactly what he was like when classes started and parties started peppering the nights of the week. Homework was often forgotten or left alone until the very last minute he could spare. Research papers and proposal pitches were tossed together in a hurry though _that_ never stopped him from having them accepted or praised. Though he’s been mostly living on adrenaline on most nights as a result of being a world class procrastinator, he’s mostly gotten by with a lot of luck and plenty of effort with a highly stressed mindset. 

 

But most nights and most homework was once again, not exactly _midterm_ week. He could do papers and assignments in less than an hour on average but _projects_ that stemmed from his own proposals (which while _genius_ , it does actually require a _crap ton_ of work and time) were actually due in complete or near complete form. 

 

And since failures required a paper explaining why the project itself became a failure and how it would need to be fixed in some way or form in the future in order to be workable, Tony opted for the simplest way: success. 

 

Which is why the lab he was supposed to be sharing with Bruce and Richard was currently in complete disarray. No doubt the two other scientists would end up demanding him for some form of an answer or explanation if not a lecture sometime tonight but for good things, there must be _sacrifice_. 

 

And if that sacrifice just so happened to be the lab, well-- 

 

Hopefully Tony would be able to appease the both of them with the several cups of coffee that he knows he will have bought from the local Pick Me Ups cafe by the end of the night. And surely they’ll forgive him. He’s on his way to finishing up the last of his final projects. They would have miniature flying drones by the time it hits 6:00 a.m. and who knows? 

 

Maybe he could also submit them to the Electrical Engineering department as an exchange for more grants and funds for the lab. Then all three of them could get _toys_ without Tony personally paying for them--a promise in which he had made earlier in his college years. 

 

But good things never last and Tony was pretty sure life was out to get him by the time he turns a corner and immediately crashes into a broad chest. The cup of coffee goes flying, of course, and it takes its time to actually toss what was left of the cold brew onto the other man. Tony stumbled and tripped on his own feet as he began to fall backwards. 

 

“Watch out!” 

 

The shout rang clearly throughout the hallway, echoing further down to where the elevators were beeping as they closed and opened. Tony was having a hard time trying to reply when all he can feel is a sudden loss of _ground_. 

 

Then he’s back on his feet, two spots on his arms growing warmer and warmer by the second because of the pair of wide hands grasping him by the biceps. And as he was righted, Tony can’t help but stare at the growing spots of light brown spreading across a plain white tee, turning what was a small splatter into a gory mess of stains. 

 

“--That wasn’t supposed to happen,” is what comes out of his mouth first. The person in front of him shifts and as Tony’s eyes jerk up and widens at the sight of the man before him, he can’t help but wonder if he had somehow died before hitting the corner and went to heaven.

 

Wide shoulders, _blond and blue eyed_ , and proportions like Tony was meant to _climb_ him--

 

And if he wasn’t already so far gone, the man shoots him a small little smile and the _sincerity_ and _shyness_ just laced sweetly in that one move has Tony staggering forward with a grin of his own. He doesn’t end up getting far but that was alright, considering how it only means that the hands on him are firmly tightening their grip.

 

“It’s fine. It’s just a little coffee. Are you alright though? You nearly fell.” 

 

The concern is light but Tony is far more interested about something else and the question is brushed away, the electrical engineering major speaking his mind. Any other day, it might be fine but Tony was running on six hours of sleep over the last two days and his last source of caffeine is now spilled all over the man before him. 

 

So needless to say, he’s most likely going to make very little sense even if that tidbit of information doesn’t stop him from trying.

 

“What do you eat?” 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

The surprise is sweet and _adorable_ , especially since Tony can see the way the blond’s brow was furrowing lightly even as his lips were curling at the edges into an amused smile. It spurred him onwards, cognac eyes wide and slightly glazed over but no less leaving the perfect specimen of men. 

 

“No really--what do you eat?” 

 

“I think you need to lie down.” 

 

Those warm warm hands are tugging him toward the other end of the hall now, gently nudging him toward a room Tony hasn’t seen since _Monday_ and Wednesday was already on the calendar. His feet move in tandem with the pair now settling at his side, shuffling just a bit faster at times in order to keep them moving properly with one foot in front of the other and not one foot tangled with the other. 

 

“Because I’d like to have a piece of you.” 

 

Was he talking? Because Tony was sure that was his voice saying words. The blond only shakes his head and continues nudging him toward his room. He doesn’t miss the way the other man’s cheeks are pinking in spots and darkening at the very tips of his ears. 

 

“No really--I’d like a piece of you. For breakfast. For dinner. Do you like dinner?” 

 

There’s no response except for the blond knocking on Tony’s dorm room and the sound of lock clicking open and the door creaking open. Clint is blinking wearily at them from in front, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers with arrow prints. 

 

“Wuh?” His roommate was still staring owlishly at them. Tony could empathize. 

 

“He stays here right?” 

 

Clint only gives them both a nod before grumbling back to bed, the door left open for them. Tony was about to ask exactly what was going on when the man just turns to him, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. It’s awkward, it’s new, but-- 

 

“I like dinner. And breakfast. I like lunch too--but maybe you should find me later after you had some sleep.” 

 

And just like that, he’s nudged forward and left in his room, the door slowly closing between the two of them. He’s gaping at what seems like a really _odd_ response to pretty much an open invitation from _Tony Stark_ for a date--

 

“You know, Steve Rogers is pretty much the school’s posterboy, right? You’re so screwed.” 


End file.
